We Just Might Feel Good
by A Whisper Of Grace
Summary: Old friends, Emma and Killian, walk a fine line in their relationship while balancing their high profile careers. Having not seen each other in months, they find themselves in their hometown of Boston, reunited for only one night. Modern AU.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This is the first part of a fic inspired by the song "Boston" by the Dresden Dolls. It will probably be three or four parts.**

**Part One**

Emma smiled as she looked over the menu in front of her, pretending to consider what to order. She'd eaten at the hotel restaurant often enough to know what was good, and most of her attention was on the man sitting across from her. Tall, light brown hair, with the right amount of scruff and an accent that could just wash over her, she'd been interested ever since she'd ran into Graham in the hallway upstairs - quite literally - and hadn't had to hint too hard before he'd asked her to dinner.

He'd known who she was, but it hadn't thrown him like it did most people. He'd told her that he'd seen one or two of her films, liked her performance but hadn't heard of much of her other work, which was the comment that she got from most people. But instead of wanting to know about the other actors that she'd worked with, or what her favourite kind of ice cream was, he was more curious about the type of life that hopefully-budding stardom was bringing her, and didn't push her if the topics became too personal.

When she'd first met him earlier that afternoon, all she'd wanted from him was a little wining and dining before taking him to bed to occupy her for the night, but she found herself actually enjoying herself a lot more than she'd expected to.

'What's Vancouver like?' he asked as she took a sip of wine.

'Hmm,' she said, lowering her glass. 'Cold. When I was there, anyway. You have to tell me about that accent, though. I'd know Irish anywhere.'

'Northern Ireland, actually,' he told her, smiling at her before his eyes dipped to the menu again. 'I moved here a few years ago.'

'For work?' she asked lightly, pushing aside thoughts of another Irishman that she knew. He wasn't there, and she was really starting to like this one.

(A part of her couldn't wait to tell Killian about him, later. Would he be jealous?)

(_It's not about jealousy. Stop it.)_

'Just fancied a sea change,' he said, keeping his tone casual to match hers. It was clear that there was a story there, but if he wasn't going to offer the information then she wasn't going to push him. 'What were you thinking for -'

'Emma Swan.'

Emma's body was turning before she could stop herself, one hand gripping the back of her chair tightly as she looked around for the owner of that smug, arrogant voice. When her eyes landed on him, standing a few feet behind her, her mouth slipped into a large grin before she could restrain it into something slightly more neutral. 'Killian? What are you doing here?'

He looked at her, just looked at her for a few seconds, and she could feel the same thrill humming through her as she knew he was feeling. After a moment he stepped up to the table, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface, his body angled enough toward Emma that it excluded Graham. 'Jeff's sick,' he told her. 'We had to cancel a few shows, so I came home for a couple of days.'

Her eyes flickered to Graham, who leaned forward slightly to grab Killian's attention. 'You're the guy in that band, aren't you?'

Leaning back in her chair, Emma watched in amusement as Killian's grin faded into a barely upturning of his lips. They were always open about their conquests on the road - to the point of bragging and competition, sometimes - but this was the first time that one of them had met the other. Raising his eyebrow at her, he turned to face Graham, who was looking on with faint confusion. 'Killian Jones,' he said, holding out his hand, which the other man shook. 'Guitarist.'

'Graham Humbert,' Graham said, and didn't offer anything else.

Killian must have realized that he was interrupting their night - _like he hadn't known before he'd come over_. 'I'll leave you to order,' he said, and she didn't miss the tightening around his eyes when they turned back to her. 'I'm here until Saturday.'

'I'm leaving tomorrow morning,' she said, grimacing.

They watched each other for a few seconds, Emma's mind racing as she saw the realization in Killian's eyes before his guard went back up. 'All right,' he said eventually. 'Next time, perhaps -'

'No.' Her mouth snapped shut after the words slipped out automatically. She looked from deep blue eyes to warm green ones and back again. She actually liked Graham, had enjoyed the start of her night with him, but she couldn't give up this chance to see Killian, not when it had been months since they'd last been even in the same state. Turning back to Graham, she frowned at him apologetically, hoping that he could see how sincere she was. 'I'm so sorry.'

Leaning back in his chair, he smiled faintly, his disappointment plain. 'Don't be,' he said, waving his hand across the table. 'We hadn't even ordered yet. No loss but the company.'

His easy acceptance only made her feel worse. 'Let me pay for my drinks,' she said, reaching for her purse, but he held out his hand to stop her.

'It's fine, I've got it,' he said, smiling at her warmly. 'Maybe another time, if you're back in town?'

She ignored the impatient sound that Killian made from beside her, trying not to roll her eyes because surely she could have a minute or so since he was interrupting her night? 'Absolutely,' she told Graham, meaning it where she normally wouldn't. 'Do you mind if I call you, though? I don't like to give my number out.'

'Of course.' Pulling his wallet out of his jacket, he scribbled down some numbers of the pen that she supplied, his fingers brushing hers when he handed both to her. 'Enjoy the rest of your night, Emma,' he said, his smile slipping slightly when he turned his head to nod to Killian. 'Mr Jones.'

'Humbert,' Killian said, and she sighed at the sudden overly friendly tone of his voice.

Smiling at Graham one last time, she grabbed her coat and her purse, stuffing the card inside before following Killian out of the dining area. 'I have a room here,' she told him. 'Did you want to get a drink?'

'I have drinks at my place,' he told her, his hand coming to rest lightly on her lower back, guiding her toward the exit and she couldn't deny the way a coil tightened in her stomach. The night was cold, but his touch was warm through the material of her dress, and she didn't bother to put her coat on, knowing that he'd have the heat on in his car anyway. Once the valet had brought it around and tossed him the keys, she climbed into the passenger seat.

Neither of them spoke as he pulled out onto the street and turned toward the area of the city where his apartment was. After a few minutes of silence she reached for the radio, flicking through stations until she found a song that she liked.

'What brings you home?' he asked eventually. _Why didn't you tell me you were here?_ was what she heard.

'Mary Margaret and David had a baby, did you hear about that?' she asked. He nodded, keeping his eyes straight ahead but his smile was genuine. 'I came to visit for a few days, before I start my next job. They hired a sitter to look after the baby so they can have a night out, so I booked a room at the hotel.'

'They kicked you out?' Killian asked, sounding amused.

'I offered,' she said dryly. 'I didn't mention it because you're supposed to be on tour,' she reminded him, 'so I didn't think we'd see each other. Plus, you haven't returned my last email from over a week ago.'

Huffing a laugh, he shrugged lightly. 'I've been busy.'

'Busy not being on tour?'

'Exactly,' he said unapologetically, and she sighed dramatically. 'And we did play up until last night, but now Jefferson's got some throat infection or something.'

They fell into silence again, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't relaxing either, though; she could feel the tension in the air between them. She chewed at her bottom lip as they drove, impatient to reach their destination.

He pulled into the small parking lot of his apartment building, and had the key out of the ignition as soon as he'd pulled to a stop, out of the door before she could unbuckle her belt. She pulled the handle on the door but it opened before she could push on it, Killian standing on the other side with his hand extended. 'What are you doing?' she asked, grinning despite herself.

'Being a gentleman,' he said, as though it were obvious. 'Come on, Swan, when are you going to catch up?'

Shaking her head, she put her hand in his and let her pull him up, but when he tugged on her harder than she'd been expecting she stumbled forward into him. The way that his other hand rested on her hip to steady her told her that the move had been intentional, but she found herself unable to care, too caught up in the lack of space between their bodies, their faces inches apart.

Her hands landed on his chest, her breath hitching and she could smell the faint remains of his cologne. She closed her eyes just before he leaned forward, closing the space between them and pressing his lips against hers.

Humming with the relief of _finally,_ she let him push her back against the car, one hand fisting in his shirt while the other wrapped around the back of his neck and pulled him closer. His free hand came up to cup her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. When he ground his hips against hers she moaned, and he used the opportunity to slip his tongue past her lips, tangling it with hers and it was too much, not enough, it was perfect and holy shit, she'd missed him.

She kissed him desperately, craving this closeness, this familiarity that she never got with anyone else, wanting to wrap herself up in him, not quite believing that they'd found each other tonight but not willing to wait any longer now that they had the chance. 'Inside,' she gasped, breaking the kiss only long enough to get the word out but then she could barely concentrate even on that because his thigh had found itself between hers and every time he rocked his hips against hers she felt him right where she was suddenly desperate for him, her arm sliding around his back to hold him to her tightly before she pushed him away. 'Inside, Killian.'

He groaned as he reluctantly stepped away from her, his hand closing around hers tightly and pulling her toward the entrance to his apartment building, all but dragging her up the stairs and when she laughed at him for it he answered with the boyish grin that had always made her heart warm. When they reached his door he pressed her against it face first, grinding up against her ass as he fumbled for the right key, feeling his erection through their clothes. 'Bloody hell,' he muttered as he almost dropped them, then groaned loudly when she turned her head to press open mouthed kisses against his neck. 'Fuck.'

'Hurry up,' she murmured, angling her hips and he swore again, closing his mouth over hers just as the door pushed open and then they were stumbling into the apartment, almost falling over each other until he slipped around her, all but slamming the door shut before she was pressed against it again. Her back was against it this time, Killian's body hard against her. Dropping her purse and coat, she pushed his jacket off of his shoulders and as soon as his arms were free, his hands were on her, one groping at her breast while the other slipped straight down between her legs. Tugging her dress up, he pushed aside her underwear, his fingers slipping between her folds and they both groaned loudly at the contact, the sensation shooting out through to her toes. 'Fucking hell, Emma. You're always so wet for me. I need to taste you.'

His thumb circled her clit while two fingers played at her entrance, teasing her when she was already aroused enough. He kissed his way down her neck, nipping at the top of her breast before falling to his knees in front of her, slipping his fingers inside of her as he did so and her head fell back against the door with a dull thud. 'Please,' she sighed, shivering as his breath washed over her, his mouth just inches from where she wanted him.

While his fingers started to pump slowly in and out of her, his other hand slide slowly up the outside of her leg, looking up at her and she could see her own anticipation mirrored in his hooded eyes. His hand reached her knee and curled around it, lifting her leg over his shoulder and then he leaned forward, closing his mouth over her clit.

Closing her eyes, she tightened her leg around him, threading her fingers through his hair and urging him closer. His fingers picked up their pace, his lips and tongue working over her thoroughly, his fingers digging into her ass. The feeling of it all was incredible - she didn't get this attention from other men, almost never, and he had her a trembling mess within minutes, always knowing exactly the right spots to hit to have her coming hard and fast. When his fingers curled inside of her, rubbing against her most sensitive spot, her legs started to tremble and she had to balance most of her weight against the door and on him, vaguely regretting not kicking off her heels. Her body tensed, her teeth digging into her lower lip to suppress her groan as the heat became unbearable and then pulsed out through her body, clenching her fist in his hair when he removed his fingers but not his mouth, his tongue laving over her as she continued to ride out her orgasm.

Eventually he pulled away, letting go of her leg and grabbing her hands instead, pulling her down on top of him as he lay back. 'Bedroom?' she said, climbing over him and fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, her need for him barely diminished.

'No, here,' he said, leaning up just enough to kiss her hungrily and she moaned at the taste of herself on his lips. Needing no further encouragement, she reached lower between them, shuffling back so that she straddled his thighs, making quick work of his belt, jerking down his pants. Moving forward again, she lifted herself over him, their mouths still moving together as she pulled him free of his underwear, only pausing to groan together in relief when she sunk down onto him.

'Oh, yes,' he growled, shifting to fill her deeper, both of his hands grasping her hips and helping her to rock against him. Pressing her face against his neck, she gave herself a few seconds to find her rhythm before she leaned back, sitting up straight astride him, ripping at the last of his buttons so that her hands could splay over his chest, to feel him as much as for leverage. She set a fast pace, encouraged by his moans and the way he gasped her name, loving the sight of his Adam's apple bobbing furiously as he threw his head back and swallowed hard. 'Like that, that's perfect, fuck...'

The familiar drag of him inside of her already sensitive core had her worked up again quickly, and when one of his hands settled in the crease of her thigh, his thumb reaching between them to rub frantically at her clit, she couldn't help the long moan that fell from her lips. 'That's it,' he said, his accent thicker now. 'Bloody hell, but you're beautiful. I want to watch you fall apart, aye, just like that.' He shifted under her, bending his legs and using the new angle to move against her faster, thrusting up into her every time she ground down on him and then she felt it, her insides clenching around him as her second orgasm hit her, her back arching and throwing her head back, crying out loudly as her hips jerked against his. He kept moving for a few more seconds before his own body stiffened, moaning her name, and she felt him pulsing inside of her, the sensation drawing another strained noise from her.

Her head lolled forward lazily and then he was pulling her down to lie on top of him, the hair on his chest scratching at her sensitive nipples, his arms coming around her as they both caught their breath. Her limbs felt tired, but a warm, satisfied feeling had spread throughout her body, and nothing was going to make her move from that spot for at least the next few minutes.

'Hi,' he said eventually, pressing his lips against her hair.

Laughing softly, she pressed her face harder against his shoulder. 'Hi,' she said back, closing her eyes to better enjoy the feeling of his fingers trailing their way up her back.

She had no immediate plans to move - they might be lying on the ground, but since she was lying on top of him and he was comfortable and warm, it was hardly her problem - until her stomach growled loudly and he chuckled.

'Chinese?'

'Sounds great.'

**AN: Emma and Killian's relationship will be explained in the next part.**

**Review?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

An hour later, Emma sat on Killian's couch wearing nothing but her underwear and one of his shirts, him only in his boxers. He was sprawled out, his legs casually across her lap. 'Eating would be easier if you sat up,' she told him, pointing her fork at him before digging back into the takeout box that rested on his shins, swirling noddles around her fork.

'Probably,' he said, craning his head forward to get his own forkful to his mouth without spilling it all over himself. 'But I'm comfy.' He wiggled his legs against her, nearly spilling her food all over the both of them.

'Watch it,' she grumbled, stuffing more food in her mouth to hide her smile.

She couldn't deny that it was nice, just being with him. She tried not to think about it when they were apart, but the content, happy feeling that was swelling inside of her told her plainly that she'd missed him more than usual this time. Things felt easier when they were together. She didn't feel so alone.

Killian was the only person aside from Mary Margaret and David that she still knew from her teenage years. She was never popular - and liked it that way - until she'd scored her first role, a short film for a local company, and when her performance had received positive reviews suddenly everyone had wanted to know her better. And so she'd quite happily stuck to the few friends that had always been by her side, letting in a few extras only as they proved their loyalty (Killian's band mates among them).

She'd always been closest with Killian. He'd moved from Ireland with only his elder brother and guardian, Liam, hoping for a chance at a new life. After going from home to home in the foster system, she'd understood what it was like to not feel stable.

They'd stopped denying the attraction that they felt for each other just before high school ended, and it had felt so easy to be together. Killian had encouraged her to audition for jobs while she supported him as his band wrote and recorded their first album, the two of them nervous but excited about where their futures could take them, both in their careers and with each other. But then he'd left on the band's first tour, and things had been... harder.

They'd been able to cope with the distance. They'd found time to call and text and Skype, and hearing his voice had eased the space between them. But the media caught on quickly to the rising new band, attractive young men each of them, and Killian found himself with as much attention as any of the others. Determined to keep their personal life separate from their careers, they'd agreed to insist that he was single, which she'd been fine with until she'd started seeing pictures of him with other women, from all parts of the country.

He'd insisted that he hadn't been with any of them, but in a heated argument had slipped out that it was bloody hard to resist when he hadn't seen her for three months and didn't know how to deal with missing her. She'd started to fight back, to tell him that sleeping with another woman shouldn't make up for not being with her, until she'd realized that maybe there was a reason why she'd thrown herself so fully into the kissing scene that had taken three hours to film that day.

It had been for work, but so was his image. And his current one - bad boy flirt - was helping to sell their tickets. Neither of them wanted to back down, but neither of them were happy with the way things were.

They'd called it quits, and not spoken to each other for months. She'd thrown herself into work, ignoring the magazines, ignoring the news. She hadn't been aware that he was back in town until he turned up at the same party where she was, and he'd seemed just as eager to avoid her as she did him.

Until, of course, they found themselves alone in the bathroom and unable to keep their hands off of each other.

They hadn't worked together, yet they couldn't stay away. The familiarity that they found in each other couldn't be replicated in another's arms, and they'd both confessed to trying, again and again. They'd talked about trying again, but they both knew that the distance was too much and the nights on the road (and at home) too lonely. It was only going to get worse, with his band looking to tour overseas and her career picking up. So they'd parted on good terms, this time as friends.

It hadn't stayed that simple for long. Every time they found each other they fell together, as desperate for each other as they had been the first time. It had taken them a year and three visits to accept that they preferred life with each other in it, in whichever way they could.

It wasn't a relationship. Certainly not to the public, and not even to them. But for the past five years they'd taken what they needed and what they could from each other whenever they had the chance. They were open about the other people that they slept with, to keep themselves aware of their situation more than anything else, but she couldn't remember when it had turned into a bragging game.

She would have enjoyed telling him about Graham, with the lovely accent.

Killian's legs shifted again, recapturing her attention, and she lifted her takeout carton so he could sit up properly. She frowned as he leant forward to set his half empty box on the coffee table. 'Are you sick, too?' she asked, pointing to his food and referring to the fact that he'd hardly eaten anything, but he just laughed.

'Love, I was leaving my own dinner when I found you tonight. This is meal number two.'

'Of course it is,' she muttered, shaking her head at him. He shrugged unapologetically before pushing himself up off of the couch and heading toward the kitchen.

Putting down the last of her own meal, Emma took a deep breath and looked around the lounge room of the apartment, feeling herself relax to the faint hum of the television, the sounds of him moving around the kitchen. It had felt cold and unlived in when they'd first arrived, but with the lights on and the smell of food in the air (and their clothes on the floor), it was starting to feel a lot more like home. She'd moved around quite a lot over the years, but he'd always kept the same small apartment and it felt more like home to her than any place she'd had, including her current apartment in New York.

Killian returned after a few minutes with a beer in hand that she accepted gratefully, taking the advantage when he sat down to pop her feet in his lap much like he'd done to her. She'd been expecting a joking protest of some kind, but didn't mind when he just smoothed his hand over her ankle and up her bare calf instead. It felt good to be intimate with someone aside from sex, and from the small smile on his face, she thought he felt the same way. 'How's the tour going?' she asked after taking a long drink.

She didn't resist the urge to kick him when he "accidentally" rested his beer against her leg - it was cold, the bastard - and he grinned at her as he moved it away so as not to spill it. He wrapped his free arm around her ankles to still them, and although she eyed him warily, he kept his beer an acceptable distance away from her skin. 'Pretty good, actually,' he said, as though he weren't acting like a child at the same time - which wasn't unusual for him, not at _all_. 'Regina's been pretty pleased. Except for Jeff getting sick, that is,' he added. 'She hates cancelling shows, and I agree with her. We only had half a dozen left, but now we'll have to go back once we finish the others.'

'You could have sung,' she pointed out, nudging him with her heel. 'I'm sure you could have handled it.' Jefferson had a great voice, but so did Killian, and Emma told him frequently that he should be doing more than backup vocals.

He smirked at her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. 'I could have handled it,' he agreed. 'But when people pay for Jeff and they get me -'

'They don't just pay for Jeff,' she interrupted him, her brows shooting up. 'Are you serious? You get just as much attention as him, more even.' _And since when would he have had a problem with it if he hadn't?_

He shrugged lightly, his face a careful mask of indifference that she saw straight through. 'Yeah, maybe. Not for the music, though.' She made a small sound of protest but he was moving out from underneath her feet before she could speak and she bit her tongue, reluctantly accepting that he didn't want to continue the conversation. 'It's gotten freezing in here,' he said, walking across the room to retrieve the control for the heater, fiddling with the buttons until the familiar sound of the unit came on.

Letting the subject drop for now, Emma straightened up on the couch, watching him from across the room. 'You know that clothes would make it less cold,' she pointed out, nodding toward his current state of undress.

He grinned up at her, dropping the control on the small dining table on the other side of the room and looking her up and down - she knew that she was hardly better, in just her underwear and his shirt. 'I'm inclined to keep us in as few clothes as possible tonight,' he said with a raise of his eyebrow, and she resisted not only the urge to roll her eyes (because she felt the same) but also to check the time (because she didn't want to know how quickly the minutes were slipping by).

Her eyes dropped to the table where he'd put down the control, landing on the large folder underneath, half hidden by the shoulder bag that he usually travelled with. Pushing herself off of the couch, she walked across and moved the bag, opening the folder. 'Have you had a chance to do a lot of drawing?'

'Hmm. Not as much as I'd like.' As he spoke, Killian tugged at her hair gently, his hand brushing over her shoulder before he stepped away in the direction of the couch. Emma focused on the folder and its contents, a smile tugging at her lips automatically in response to the grinning child on the first page. He'd always had a talent and a love for art, and she knew few people who could create such a lifelike image just with a pencil, his tool of choice when he travelled. She could see the joy in the little boy's eyes, and somehow felt like she was a part of it. 'Downtime has been scarce lately.'

Sparing a glance over her shoulder to find Killian reclined on the couch again, his eyes closed and a content half smile on his face, Emma turned back to the picture, her fingertips not quite brushing at his cheek.

Flipping the page over carefully, she found an unfinished (abandoned?) sketch of a courtyard in one of the cities that he must have visited when he'd had a few hours to spare. There were children playing with a ball by a small fountain, two men in suits on a nearby bench, an elderly man and woman bent over a small table, but none of their faces were finished, each of them only a faint outline, a vague hint of eyes, nose, mouth. The background was in similar detail; aside from the fountain, there was only feathered strokes to indicate spacing and depth.

Anyone else might have assumed it was a half hearted effort, but she knew it to be an eagerness to capture everything, anything he could in the moments that he had spare. She understood that well, the need for more time, for more peace.

She looked through the next few pages, unable to stop herself from being drawn into the pictures. There were a few locations but the people in them were always more prominent, almost always with big, laughing smiles that she felt in her soul and she knew, this was his happiness, his passion just as much as the music was.

'So is what's-his-face your type, then?'

Emma didn't react straight away, reluctant to pull herself from her thoughts. 'Hmm?'

There was a pause, a shuffle of movement. 'Graham Humbert, smiley face. What kind of grown man writes his name with a smiley face?'

Glancing back at him again, she wad unsurprised to see him poking around in her clutch, scrap of paper in hand that she assumed was where Graham had written his number. And, presumably, a smiley face. 'I don't care what he writes with his name. The fact that he could hold a conversation was as impressive as his pretty face. And I don't have a type,' she said honestly before turning back to his folder, flipping over the last piece of paper to see a sealed hidden pocket at the back. 'Ooh, is this where you keep your naked women? I was wondering when I'd come across those.'

'Ha ha,' he said sarcastically, making her jump slightly when she realized that he was standing right behind her. She turned her head to look up at him but he bent down on her other side, his mouth closing over the exposed skin of her neck and she sucked in her breath, the surprise making her heart jump all the more and heat rushed immediately through her body and between her legs. Licking a stripe up her neck, Killian nipped lightly at the skin just underneath her ear. Her head fell back against shoulder, a low hum of satisfaction leaving her as her hand came up of its own accord, her fingers twisting in his hair and holding him against her. 'Are you going to call him?' he breathed against her ear.

'Killian,' she sighed, barely a protest and then it was nullified anyway as his hand gripped her chin, turning her head towards him and closing his mouth over hers. Her eyes slid closed and her lips parted automatically, putty in his hands, and she barely noticed when he closed the folder and pushed it aside. His hand left her face to cup her head and then he was pulling her up, kicking the chair out of the way and pressing her against the table, the wooden edge cool against the backs of her thighs. She lifted herself up onto the table, but her hands moved to his chest, breaking the kiss and stopping him from following her. 'It's just you and me here, right?'

His brows were drawn together, a darkness in his eyes that wasn't just lust but she couldn't quite place what part of it felt unfamiliar. His hands dropped to her knees, and she resisted the urge for her eyelids to flutter closed as they slid slowly up the outsides of her thighs. 'Just me and you,' he agreed, the darkness turning into pure heat as he watched her, and she felt the thick desire in his voice in her bones. 'Just you, here, in my apartment. In my shirt,' he said, lifting one hand to nimbly undo the few buttons holding the shirt closed, his hand immediately cupping her breast as soon as it fell open. The other tugged at the hem of her underwear and her hands fell to the table, lifting herself up so that he could pull them off, parting her legs so that he could step between them, grabbing onto his shoulders to pull him down so that she could kiss him.

As soon as his mouth was on hers she felt it again, the desperate urgency that she hadn't been able to deny when they'd first made it to his apartment. Her other hand was on his waist, tugging him closer until he was flush up against her, his erection rubbing at her through his boxers but it wasn't enough, not even with the low groan that fell from his lips at the contact. 'Leave the shirt on,' he said hoarsely before sinking his teeth into the skin at the base of her neck, and her hands were tugging at his underwear, needing them off, now. 'I like you in my clothes.'

She shouldn't like him being possessive, she shouldn't enjoy it but fuck it, she did, she couldn't deny the thrill that went through her as he marked her, one arm coming around her to hold them as close together as possible while the other gripped at her thigh, guiding her legs around his waist as her hand closed around his cock. Just like earlier (like always), she was wet and ready for him and he slid in easily, filling her with a few long, deep thrusts that had her short of breath and clinging to him. After a moment he set a quicker pace, pumping in and out of her fast and hard and rough. It felt good, it felt perfect, but he wasn't kissing her and his eyes were anywhere but on hers, and she wasn't so far gone as to not notice. Despite his earlier words, it didn't feel like it was just _them_ in the room, and she didn't like his current mood. 'You can wear my shoes if you like,' she offered, her voice barely more than a gasp.

Killian paused, but it had the desired effect, a quiet snort of laughter and then his mouth was on hers again, kissing her with the warmth and affection that she was used to, deep and steady and altering his thrusts to match it. _This_ was better, _this_ was them, and she wrapped herself in the feeling.

He tugged at her leg and she lay back on the table, shifting slightly so that he could bring her leg up over his shoulder and she moaned at the sensations the new angle gave when he started to move, one hand wrapped around her leg while the other rested on her hip, holding her down on the table. 'Fuck,' she muttered, moving with him as best as she could, reaching up to roll her nipple between her thumb and her forefinger.

'Yes, yes,' he groaned, starting to move faster and she knew he was close already but that didn't matter because she was too. 'Touch yourself Emma, like I love.' Before she could think about it her other hand was between her legs just above where they joined, rubbing against her clit roughly and her head fell back, less concerned about watching them, her whole focus on the steady drag of him inside her. _Almost, almost..._ He cursed loudly, biting down on her leg and then she was crashing over the edge, her body stiffening as she came, warmth spreading all through her. He followed just moments later, dropping her leg from his shoulder and leaning over her, his face scrunched up deliciously and his name falling from her lips.

Always so, so good. But -

'One more,' he said gruffly as he pulled out of her, pressing hot, open mouthed kisses to her chest, her nipple, her stomach before his hand disappeared between them, two fingers sliding into her easily without preamble and she gasped, her body still oversensitive. He didn't seem to notice or care, shifting his weight onto his other arm to hold himself above her, still resting between her legs as he fucked her with his fingers, drawing a gasp from her with every stroke.

She moaned his name but he only grunted, closing his mouth over her nipple again and she arched into him. He stopped pumping his fingers in and out of her and rubbed his fingers against the inside of her walls, pressing hard against just that right spot. 'Oh, _fuck.'_ She didn't know if it was because she hadn't fully recovered from her last orgasm but she was already nearing her peak again, her body trembling underneath his and then she was right _there, _falling over the edge for the second time in minutes.

She was still catching her breath when he pulled his fingers from her, moving his hands to her sides to help her sit up, and she could feel the wetness that was a mixture of them both against her skin - she was on the pill; he was the only person that she didn't wear a condom with and she knew the same to be true for him. Letting him pull her upright, she rested her head against his bare chest as he wrapped his arms around her. 'Greedy tonight?' she asked, pressing a chaste kiss on his collarbone.

'The night's not over, love,' he said, and when she looked up at him his half smile turned into a cheeky grin. 'And there's still the morning.'

He was right, but she could still feel the minutes slipping through her fingers. _How many hours until her flight?_ She didn't want to look.

'You're lucky I put up with you,' she warned him, smiling at him to hide her thoughts and soften her words as she gently pushed him away from her. Lowering herself onto the ground, she searched the floor for her underwear. Turning back to him, she had to smother a laugh at the sight of him standing next to the table with his boxers around his ankles and a satisfied smirk on his face. 'I'm going to get cleaned up, and you better have a cold beer for me when I get back.'

When she returned from the bathroom he not only had a beer for her, but had managed to find some jeans as well, though he was still missing his shirt (which she'd never complain about). An old movie was just starting on the TV and when she sat next to him on the couch, he lifted his arm and she settled against him automatically, always amazed at how easily they fit together considering they spent most of their time in different states or different countries and with different people.

(She dozed off during the movie. He carried her to bed, but by the time they reached it she was wide awake, and they didn't get to sleep for another hour.)

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	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I'm a terrible, terrible person for not updating this fic in so long. At first I was working on other things, and then I realized that half of what I'd written contradicted what happens in the next chapter. Then I rewrote it, and lost everything I'd changed. So here it is, finally, and hopefully I won't take so long to update next time.**

**The names I've mentioned in here come from the song this fic is inspired by, the feel of which heavily influences this chapter.**

**Also, the chapter after this is _supposed_ to be the last one, but I'm already pretty sure that I'm going to have to split it into two. So, warning you just in case, but probably not necessary.**

**Part Three**

Pressing her face into the pillow, Emma tried to resist waking up, knowing without opening her eyes that it was still far too early for her to be awake. A smile tugged at her lips anyway when she recognized the scent that clung to the pillow and the weight of the arm lying loosely over her waist.

This was one of the things that she missed most; having someone to hold her, a warm body to wake up next to. Her usual one night stands satisfied the itch and pushed back the loneliness, but the nights were far and few between when she'd let them stay over. And the few that did still lacked this familiarity. She knew that if she were to shift closer to Killian, his arm would tighten around her, even in his sleep. She knew how much she'd have to move or how much noise she'd have to make to wake him up.

She also knew that he'd be cold in bed alone, so when she slipped out from under his arm, she made sure to pull the quilt up over his shoulders. He shifted in his sleep, his brow furrowing when his arm moved and she wasn't there. She stepped back quickly, not wanting to disturb him, grabbing a shirt from the floor as she tiptoed out of the bedroom.

Closing the door quietly behind her, she slipped the shirt over her head - a dark coloured v-neck that fell to the tops of her thighs and smelt clean, at least. She felt her way through the dark apartment, only flicking on a light when she reached the kitchen. Taking a clean glass from the cupboard, she glanced at the clock on the microwave as she filled it with water from the tap, and was unsurprised to find the numbers flashing repeatedly at 00:00. She wondered how long it had been since Killian had been here for more than a few days at a time.

Despite the heater being on earlier, the apartment was chilly again now and as goosebumps broke out over her legs, she regretted the decision not to borrow some of his sweatpants as well. Crossing the room, she put her glass on the coffee table and picked up her phone when she saw it's notification light flashing. She sat down on the couch, tucking her legs underneath her, reluctantly letting go of the idea of going straight back to sleep for the next few minutes.

Unlocking her phone, Emma glanced over the new email from Belle, her manager, double checking the time of the meeting that they had set up for the following afternoon in New York, and she sighed at the idea that she had to be on at the airport by midday the next day. As much as she'd been enjoying coming back to her roots and visiting Mary Margaret and David, she'd been looking forward to going back to New York, meeting up with Belle, learning more about the next job that she had lined up for her. But now that leaving Boston also meant leaving Killian, it seemed a little bit harder.

Tapping out a quick reply to Belle confirming the time, she pressed send and then paused when she saw the (1) next to her drafts folder. Opening the half written email to Killian that she'd started a few days ago, she skimmed through what she'd written so far, mentally crossing off most of the things in there now that she'd been able to talk to him in person.

When they'd first started this long distance friends with benefits thing, they'd decided to be completely open with each other about the other people who they slept with in the hope to keep things like jealousy and distrust out of their friendship, and since then they'd developed a habit of ending their emails with an update on their latest sexual exploits. She didn't have to look at the email that she was replying to in order to remember his latest , a woman that he'd met in a club in Miami when he was out with Jeff - before he got sick, apparently.

She thought back to Killian's comment earlier, about whether Graham was her type. Did he have a type? Was Julia blonde like her? A brunette, or a redhead maybe? How about Jeanette? Or the woman before her, her name fluttering out of reach for a few seconds before her mind settled on Eleanor. She wondered if any of them looked like her.

Those types of thoughts were the ones that she tried to stay away from, and so she closed the email, tucking her phone between her hands and her hands between her thighs. It didn't matter what they looked like, or whether they were funny or smart or dull. It felt strange enough that he'd met Graham, even though he hadn't made it far enough to rate a mention in an email anyway. There was no comparison - the fact that she'd left with Killian even though she'd started the night with Graham made that obvious - but she wondered if Killian had taken measure of her choice for the night, whether against her or himself.

Draining the rest of the water in the glass, she stood and started to head back to the bedroom, wanting to make the most of Killian's warmth while she could and reluctantly taking her phone with her for its use as an alarm. She paused, however, when she walked past the dining table. Killian's sketchbook sat on the other end, closed but with a few loose pages poking out from when they'd hurriedly pushed it aside earlier.

He hadn't wanted her to see whatever was in that sealed pocket at the back, which of course made her itch to find out what was in there. Although she'd been joking when she'd suggested that they were naked portraits or whatever, now that she thought about it, she couldn't figure out anything else that he might want to hide from her, however jokingly he'd tried to hide it, and it was becoming harder to deny her curiosity. Not comparative, of course not, and not jealousy. Just curiosity.

Besides, he wouldn't know if she had a peek, would he?

Placing her phone and empty glass on the table, Emma pulled the sketchbook closer and sat down, carefully opening it straight to the back. The pocket was held closed by two Velcro tabs that, when she pulled open, came apart with an ease that indicated they were either old or well used. She paused for a second longer, considering just going back to bed, but if he hadn't wanted her to look then he shouldn't have left it out in plain sight to taunt her, right? Reaching into the pocket, her fingers closed around a thin stack of paper and she pulled them out, setting them down on the table.

Her own face stared back at her.

Her brow furrowed in confusion as she stared at the drawing on the first piece of paper. It was unmistakably her, down to the defiant tilt of her lips and the dimple in her chin, but it was a version of herself that she'd never seen before. Even just with pencil and paper, there was something about her eyes that spoke of warmth, a gracefulness to her features that surely wasn't accurate, and she marvelled briefly at his talent before it occurred to her to wonder why he wouldn't want her to see this.

She moved the piece of paper to the side, and was stuck again by her own image. This time she was laughing, her eyes crinkled and her hand pressed to her chest. The detail in the picture was incredible, something that she always struggled to believe could come from the man that she knew. A heavy feeling settled in her stomach as she looked at page after page, confronted with her likeness each time. Unlike the other drawings that she'd seen earlier, none of these were unfinished.

This was why he'd been secretive about them, she realized. She'd badgered him light heartedly to draw her countless times and he'd always refused, claiming either that he wouldn't be able to do her justice or that he'd rather spend his time being with her than making her pose for him. But clearly that wasn't necessary, because although she recognized some of the pictures as photos she'd sent him, there were some that must have been from memory.

Emma's hands were shaking as she put the sheets of paper back into their hidden spot, and after she pushed the sketchbook back across the table to where she'd found it, she took an extra few minutes to ground herself. There was so much care in those drawings, so much feeling and she had to push down those emotions when she felt them in response because _those feelings weren't supposed to be what they had_.

Those feelings threatened the stable understanding that they shared. They were just friends, perhaps a little more than friends but definitely not in love with each other because that did not _work_.

Clearing her throat quietly against the lump there, she returned her glass to the sink, switched the light off and returned to the bedroom, hesitating in the doorway. Killian had stretched out in her absence, his arm reaching across the bed and his face pressed into her pillow. The sheet had dropped down to reveal most of his torso, and even after all these years she still felt a thrill of appreciation at the sight of him.

It was more than just how frustratingly attractive he was. There was a familiarity about him that she craved, and that she could never quite match with the other men that she filled her nights with when she was lonely. She knew that she'd crawl into bed and feel comforted and _safe_ in the warmth of his arms, and it wouldn't be the same if it were just anybody.

She wanted this more than just every now and then, but she knew that it would never work. They'd tried once before and failed miserably, and she wasn't going to open herself up to such hurt again. Neither of them were prepared to give up the careers that they loved, and they just didn't work well enough together with the lifestyles that they led.

What they had was enough, she told herself.

But she wasn't looking forward to leaving tomorrow.

Killian groaned lightly, breaking her from her thoughts and she watched as he stretched out, reaching across her side of the bed again. In the dim moonlight peeking through the edges of the curtains, she saw his body stiffen and figured that he must have woken enough to find her gone. Sure enough, he pushed himself up onto his elbow, rubbed at his face, and then raised his head. 'Emma?'

His voice was thick with sleep, and she could only just make out the confused frown on his face. 'I'm here,' she said quietly, a small smile tugging at her lips at the adorable sight he made, her chest tightening painfully when he reached out to her.

'Come back to bed, darling,' he mumbled, just as a shiver went through her from the cold, and she finally pushed away from the doorframe, pulling his shirt over her head and tossing it aside just before she climbed under the covers that he'd lifted for her. Yes it was cold, but she craved the feeling of his bare skin on hers, and she didn't bother to deny that it was because it was him, more so than the feeling of any warm male body.

Like always, she fit perfectly against him with her back to his chest, curling her legs up and leaning more firmly against him, pulling his arm a little tighter when it snaked around her waist. His face pressed against the crook of her neck and she shared his tired, satisfied sigh at the closeness. She forcefully ignored the guilt that she felt at indulging in this comfort after seeing the drawings that he'd tried to hide from her. They had so little time, and surely it was only a few hours until she'd lose him again. Right now, she felt happy in his arms, and _that_ was what she was going to focus on.

She tried to push the thoughts of those drawings as far as she could from her mind, because it was too much to think of him missing her the same way that she did him.

Slowly, her body relaxed in his arms, but her mind was just a little too restless for her to fall straight asleep. Killian's breathing remained deep and slow but he shifted behind her every now and then, and she wasn't sure how deeply he slept. She was just starting to drift off when he moved, his arm loosening from around her, his hand brushing across her stomach and then up and down her arm. Her skin tingled as the backs of his fingers trailed down her side and over her hip, moving as far down her thigh as he could reach before moving back upward.

The touch was somehow both relaxing and stimulating, and she couldn't help the way her breath caught at the feeling as he moved over her lower stomach and then up between her breasts. As he traced lightly around her nipple, he pressed more firmly against her back and she could feel him start to harden against her ass, sighing as his thumb briefly rubbed over her hardening nipple before his hand moved back down her side to retrace its path.

By the time it had come up again, she was all but squirming under his touch and this time, when he cupped her breast more fully, she pressed back against him as well, revelling in the light groan that he muffled against her neck. She was so tired after their late night and knowing she had to be up at a reasonable time, but she needed to make the most out of these hours too, knowing that she couldn't be certain when she'd see him again. He kissed the sensitive skin just below her ear, his other arm moving under her waist, his hand slipping between her legs, which parted far too easily for him.

He cupped her sex lightly, the tips of his fingers only just slipping through her folds and she was torn between arching into his touch or against where his cock was still rubbing against her ass. His finger found her clit and began to circle it lazily and she lifted her leg, allowing him better access. He slipped his cock between her thighs and then pressed them back together, not entering her but sliding against her hot centre. She was wet enough from his previous attentions that he moved against her easily, and she moaned at the way he was teasing her.

His other hand was still on her breast, his mouth on her neck and all together the sensations were almost too much. 'Killian,' she sighed, rocking her hips in time with his and he only grunted in response, moving just like he was fucking her until he shifted his angle just enough that she felt the head of his cock pressing against her entrance. Spreading her legs again to encourage him, she pressed back against him and finally, _finally_ he pushed into her in one long, slow movement.

When he was fully inside her he stilled, and she didn't mind the chance to enjoy the feeling of him filling her, the angle stretching her differently than before. His hand moved from between her legs and came up to wrap around her middle, holding her as close to him as possible and for a moment she felt overwhelmed from the closeness, the intimacy. No matter what she pretended, how blasé they were with each other about the other people they slept with, nothing could ever come close to being with him like this. She gasped when he started to move, pulling out and then pushing back in slowly, setting a lazy, unhurried pace.

He knew just how to move to bring her the most pleasure, and this was no exception. She moved against him as best as she could, but found herself easily distracted by the feelings that he was drawing from her. Needing to touch him, she lifted her arm up and backwards, her fingers burying in his hair and bringing his mouth back to her neck. 'Emma,' he moaned against her skin, his voice thick and rough. Her free hand gripped at his, their fingers twisting together as they wrapped around her waist.

'Don't stop,' she gasped, because he was hitting just the right spot to make her see stars with every thrust that he made, and she could feel her pleasure starting to build quickly. His hand grasped at her thigh, pulling it up further before slipping between her legs, and she cried out as he pushed into her just a little deeper, as he started rubbing at her clit with a roughness that contradicted the leisurely way that he fucked her.

He only grunted in response, and when his fingers tightened their grip on hers and his pace picked up slightly, she realized that he might be just as close as she was. She grinded back against him harder, his breathless cursing only working her up more, his fingers working harder at her clit, the pressure inside her building and building and -

When she came, she felt it rolling through her to her toes, coursing through her veins with an intensity that usually came with hot, hard heavy sex, not this - this slow, sensual coupling. As she started to come down Killian's hand moved from between her legs to pull her against him even tighter, thrusting into her once, twice more before he stiffened, burying his head in the hollow of her neck.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, though his arms relaxed their grip around her waist, and their hands loosened but she was grateful when he didn't fully let go. Eventually he slipped out of her and rolled onto his back, pulling her with him and drawing the covers up over her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. It was so _domestic_, but she couldn't convince herself to care. She shifted until she was comfortable, her head finding its home on his shoulder, both of his arms wrapped around her.

'Emma,' he mumbled, and he already seemed to be drifting back to sleep from the slur in his voice and the way his breathing was slowing. She snuggled closer to him, knowing that it might not be for the best, knowing that the way this closeness was filling up the empty parts of her would only make things harder in the morning, but she unable to deny herself this moment of weakness because she never felt as happy as when she was in his arms.

There was a heaviness in her heart, and she pushed it down, down, because she wouldn't ruin this moment by acknowledging that this was more than just _friends._

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